Her son

Her son

Her eyes were as stained as his wrists.

She took his bloody body trying to awaken the limp boy.

She looked up to a note he had left for her.

“Sarah!” She cried for her son.

She stood and staggered over to the paper.

“The pride parade you scoffed at,

You screamed ‘turn up your nose and run!’

In that moment did you know

your daughter was your son?

When you teased

And accused

We Poisoned Christianity for fun

Did you know then that your daughter was your son?

You didn’t once ask my name

You told me to hide my shame

You hurt me with sirens in your words that are loud and angry

Cutting remarks like daggers in my side

Weights from your mouth that mocked me

But I never listened.

You always said men don’t listen.

Right?

My name

Is James.

Signed, your son.

Goodbye.”